


Colours

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Enjolras is a total brat, M/M, One Shot, Spanking, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:19:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fill for the following prompt;</p>
<p>Dom!R spanking sub!Enjolras and R cooing over how pretty Enjolras' ass looks covered in handprints/belt marks/whatever implement you want R to use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colours

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be absolutely clear, Enjolras and R are in a consensual relationship with pre-negotiated punishments. Even though Enjolras may appear to object, he does have a safeword that he can use if he wants to stop at any point.

Grantaire hauled Enjolras down over his lap, before wrenching down the guy’s boxers.

“Now then!” he smiled, rubbing his hand over Enjolras’s backside, enjoying the smooth pale flesh beneath his fingers. Enjolras tried not to squirm. The little brat had been acting up all morning and really he should have seen this coming. Enjolras liked to get himself worked up into a state until really the only thing to be done with him was give him a good hard spanking.

“R, please,” Enjolras whined. “Please don’t spank me.”

Grantaire responded with a sharp smack right across both cheeks. Enjolras gasped, bucking against his lap.

“You’re getting way too big for your boots, Enjolras. You seem to only remember your manners when you’re already over my knee,” he rubbed at the red hand print that had appeared.

“Grantaire, please, I know I was rude but I –” his little speech was cut off by two more hard spanks, one on each cheek.

“Enjolras, you have been talking all day. You were on the phone to Combeferre for two hours this morning discussing the rally next week. Then you had that meeting with Feuilly, and might I add you were pretty damn rude to him, pressurising him into coming to tonight’s meeting when you know he’s working a double shift tomorrow.”

He spanked Enjolras twice more, right on his sit spot. Enjolras wisely stayed silent.

“That’s better,” Grantaire smiled. “You’re finally getting the idea.”

He began to spank Enjolras steadily and rhythmically, watching with delight as both cheeks began to blush pink with his hand prints. Enjolras bucked and squirmed, his legs kicking out pathetically but in no real attempt to get away. And, most importantly, he didn’t safeword. Enjolras knew he not only deserved this, he needed it too. 

“Do you know how gorgeous you look right now? Arse up, bent over my knee like the naughty little boy you are?” Grantaire asked him, voice warm with awe as he continued the spanking. Enjolras’s arse cheeks were hot now under Grantaire’s touch and he was huffing and sniffing, his boxers kicked all the way down to his ankles.

Grantaire paused, running his fingers over the marks he had made, prodding and pinching them, making Enjolras gasp. 

“My hand prints decorating your skin. I know you love it, too,” he chuckled, slapping Enjolras once more, enjoying the resulting moan.

“Right then, stand up and face the wall in the corner,” he instructed. “And don’t even think of rubbing that sorry behind of yours. I’ll be right back.”

Enjolras stood up, cheeks flushed the same colour as his bottom. He ducked his head, muttered “yes, sir,” and took himself to the wall, his bright red backside glowing.

Grantaire went to their bedroom to the “toy box”. He dismissed the cane out of hand. Stripes would be nice, but Enjolras really hadn’t earned a caning. He ignored the riding crop as well. He considered the paddle, that could leave some beautiful marks and made a very satisfying sound, but it was difficult to use when Enjolras was over his knee, and that was Grantaire’s favourite position. Ditto the belt. He picked up the hair brush and the wooden spoon before returning back to where Enjolras was standing obediently with his nose in the corner.

“Back you come, then, boy!” he ordered, with no heat behind his tone because he was enjoying himself far too much.

“As you’re all about choice,” Grantaire grinned, “which would you prefer; the brush or the spoon?” Enjolras pouted.

“You’ve already spanked me,” he replied sourly.

“Wrong answer. That’s five more. Try again?” Grantaire smiled oh-so-sweetly. He could see the cogs going round in Enjolras’s head. He was getting another spanking, whether he liked it or not. Did he choose the spoon which was smaller than the brush but stung more, or did he pick the brush which was harder but covered a wider area?

“You have ten seconds before you get a round with both,” Grantaire warned him when he decided Enjolras was doing more stalling than thinking.

“The brush!” Enjolras said quickly. 

“Good boy,” Grantaire praised him, setting the spoon down to one side. “You coming quietly or do I need to persuade you?”

Enjolras quickly bent himself over Grantaire’s knee, his bottom at the perfect angle for the attentions of the hairbrush. Grantaire put a steadying hand on the small of Enjolras’s back.

“So good for me, baby boy. Let’s decorate this fine arse of yours with a few more of my marks, shall we?”

Enjolras didn’t say anything, he just let out a loud gasp when the hairbrush collided with his already stinging cheeks. Enjolras kicked out but Grantaire held him firmly. He knew this was the real punishment for Enjolras. The guy didn’t mind a hand spanking; it bruised his pride more than his backside. But he really detested when Grantaire used an implement. That was why Grantaire wielded the brush now, because Enjolras knew it was a punishment and not a “fun” spanking.

He started slowly, giving about five seconds between each strike, just enough for the burn to build up. Enjolras began to whimper.

“Please, R, I’m sorry,” he whined, wriggling as the brush came down again. 

“You’re a good man, Enjolras, and I love you very much,” Grantaire soothed, keeping his blows measured, still holding back from spanking Enjolras too hard. “But right now your arse needs to remember what that brilliant mind of yours has forgotten.”

The brush was doing an excellent job. Over the top of the hand prints, oblongs of red appeared. Grantaire increased his pace.

“Your arse is going to be so red at the end of this, it’s going to be gorgeous, Enjolras, you wait and see.”

Grantaire spanked down each thigh with the brush. Enjolras was breathing hard now, he was almost there, almost to the point of tears, but his back was straight. He hadn’t submitted yet.

“You look so beautiful with a red arse, you know that? Echoes of my hand and this brush as a reminder of how much I love you.”

Enjolras let out a sob and Grantaire stopped spanking immediately, rubbing Enjolras’s back and whispering soft and gentle words of comfort.

“So good, baby, you took that so well. Five more, remember? Just five more and we’re done.”

“Yes, Sir,” Enjolras muttered, his voice shaky, and Grantaire could see him nodding his head. He smiled. 

“Here we go then,” he warned, and brought the brush down as hard as he could right on Enjolras’s sit spot. Enjolras cried out, his legs kicking at the impact. Grantaire paused, watching the skin flush from white through red to a vague purple.

The second one was of the same strength but he applied it to the left cheek. Enjolras cried out again, his hands clutching Grantaire’s legs, probably to prevent him from trying to cover his burning backside, knowing he would only earn more doing that. The third was applied to his right cheek and Enjolras slumped over Grantaire’s lap, too exhausted to buck or squirm any more, his breath shuddering as tears poured down his cheeks.

“Nearly there, Enjolras. You’re being amazing. Just two more,” Grantaire coaxed. He cracked the brush down across both cheeks twice more, one on top of the other, before dropping the brush and rubbing his hand over Enjolras’s red hot skin.

“Oh there we go!” Grantaire cooed, running his fingers over the marked flesh. “So beautiful, baby boy. So many colours. I know I keep saying it but one of these days I really am going to have to paint you with your backside like this. It’s like a sunset.”

Enjolras sniffed but didn’t reply.

“Come on, baby, up you come. Time for a hug.” Grantaire pulled Enjolras up and instantly arms snaked round his neck as Enjolras buried his head into Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire couldn’t help but smile. He had seen Enjolras glare down a wall of armed police officers, had heard him make inspiring speeches, turning a jeering crowd into a cheering crowd. But right now he was a spanked kid who wanted a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras whimpered, his nose pressed into Grantaire’s neck.

“I know you are. And you’re forgiven, all over now. Though I think you might remember it during the meeting tonight,” he whispered lightly, running his fingers through Enjolras’s hair. He felt Enjolras nod.

“Did you want to get the camera?” Grantaire whispered. Enjolras paused for a moment and Grantaire held his breath. It was always hard to gauge with Enjolras. It had been the boy’s idea. He usually liked to go and admire his sore bottom in a mirror immediately after a decent spanking, to see Grantaire’s “handywork” as he called it. That had then evolved into the private photograph collection kept in a scrapbook in the bottom of the wardrobe in the bedroom. But Enjolras wasn’t always in the mood to have his picture taken, especially when he had been crying.

“Can I see first?” he asked, pulling back to look at Grantaire with large eyes. Grantaire chuckled, leaning forward to kiss Enjolras’s nose.

“Of course you can.”

Enjolras scrambled off his lap and ran towards the bathroom. He heard a delighted gasp before the boy reappeared.

“Wow, R!” he exclaimed. He disappeared again before reappearing with the camera. He handed it to Grantaire who grinned at him.

“I told you – your arse looks gorgeous covered in my marks. Now go lean against that wall and stick your arse out so I can get a decent shot.”


End file.
